'I'll protect myself, thank you,' he said dryly;' and I'll judge for myself. You can do as you like, and Lucy too, so long as she takes the consequences. Do you understand, Lucy?' 'Yes,' said Lucy, facing round upon him, all tremulous passion and rebellion, but she could not meet his fixed, tyrannical eye. Her own wavered and sank. Purcell enjoyed the spectacle of her for a second or two, smiled, and went. As soon as he was gone, Lucy dragged her cousin to the stairs, and never let her go till Dora was safe in her room and the door bolted. Dora implored to be released. How could she stay in her uncle's house after such a scene? and she must get home quickly anyway, as Lucy knew. Lucy took no notice at all of what she was saying. 'Look here.' she said, breaking into the middle of Dora's appeal, and speaking in an excited whisper--'he's going to do him a mischief. I'm certain he is. That's how he looks when he's going to pay some one out. Now, what's he going to do? I'll know somehow--trust me!' She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms behind her, supporting her, her little feet beating each other restlessly--a hot, vindictive anger speaking from every feature, every movement. The pretty chit of seventeen seemed to have disappeared. Here was every promise of a wilful and obstinate woman, with more of her father's stuff in her than anyone could have yet surmised. A pang rose in Dora. She rose impulsively, and throwing herself down by Lucy, drew the ruffled, palpitating creature into her arms. 'Oh, Lucy, isn't it only because you're angry and vexed, and because you want to fight Uncle Purcell? Oh, don't go on just for that! When we're--we're Christians, we mustn't want our own way--we must give it up--_we must give it up._' Her voice sank in a burst of tears, and she drooped her head on Lucy's, kissing her cousin's brown hair. Lucy extricated herself with a movement of impatience. 'When one _loves_ anybody,' she said, sitting very upright and twisting her fingers together, 'one must stick to him!' Dora started at the word 'love.' It seemed to her a profanation. She dried her eyes, and got up to go without another word. 'Well, Dora,' said Lucy, frowning, 'and so you'll do nothing for me--_nothing_?' Dora stood a moment in a troubled silence. Then she turned, and took gentle hold of her cousin. 'If I get a chance, Lucy, I'll try and find out whether he's thinking of marrying at all. And if he isn't--and I'm sure he isn't--will you give it all up, and try and live comfortable with Uncle Purcell, and think of something else?' Her eyes had a tender, nay a passionate entreaty in them. 'No!' said Lucy with energy; 'but I'll very likely drown myself in the river some fine night.'